


Red in Tooth and Claw

by cathybites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/pseuds/cathybites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what Sam is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red in Tooth and Claw

**Author's Note:**

> so, I had this idea, and I had a ficlet request from [](http://smartlikejustin.livejournal.com/profile)[**smartlikejustin**](http://smartlikejustin.livejournal.com/) involving the words 'cherry, constant, memorize' and I thought, hey.

Dean's always bruised easily, Sam thinks as he reaches over, fingers tracing the mark on Dean's neck, shock of purple against his throat. Dean draws in a breath, sharp and harsh, and the sound twists Sam up inside, like a punch.

\----

Sam's childhood is an endless lesson in fighting. Defending himself, protecting others, learning a thousand different ways to battle a thousand different demons. Jab, roundhouse, uppercut, chokehold - this is his vocabulary. This is what he knows.

When he dreams, everything is tinged with the familiar red hum of aggression.

\----

Dean shifts under him, skin shivering where Sam touches him. Imprint of teeth along Dean's collarbone and Sam leans down, licking a steady stripe around the indentations. Dean's skin tastes like heat and violence, like the adrenaline rush before a fight, and Sam tightens his hold on Dean's arms, fingers clamping down tightly.

\----

None of his classmates understand this language, not in any of the schools he's been enrolled in throughout the years. They know movies and videogames, understand football and hockey and other games disguised as violence disguised as sports. Their knowledge is limited to what they can parrot back and forth to one another, fights that are more shoving matches and shouting than a struggle for survival. They speak in borrowed phrases and memorized lines, never taking the time to truly understand what they're saying. Everything they know they've copied from others.

Everything Sam knows is buried deep in his blood, so far down that it's all he sees when he looks at the world.

\----

There's a map of scars over Dean's skin, criss-crossing lines marking spots for exploration. Sam runs a fingernail along a river of white that winds down Dean's side, digging in when Dean moans. The flesh is pink in the wake of Sam's nail, a quick flush that makes Sam's mouth water, makes his vision hazy. He scratches harder and drops of red appear, tiny pinpricks blazing a trail across Dean's skin. Dean arches up, reaches for Sam to pull him down, but Sam growls and grabs Dean's wrists, pushing them up over his head.

\----

They all watch him, voices falling to whispers as he walks by, eyes tracking his movement. Sam spends a lot of time in school looking down at himself, making sure that nothing is out of place or torn and bleeding. He can't see anything but he knows that they can. They smell the blood on his hands, know what he's done, see the hunter in him.

He wants to tell them - all of them - that that isn't who he is, that's he just as normal as they are. But whenever he looks at them - any of them - all he can hear is the rapid beating of their hearts.

\----

There's another smattering of bruises along Dean's hipbone and Sam's fingers skate over them. They could have come from anywhere, maybe even from his own hands, but suddenly Sam can't stand to look at them. He pushes at Dean's hip until he flips over, stretching out along the mattress, and Sam takes a deep breath at the sight of darker bruising along Dean's spine. He pushes his hands up Dean's back, the skin hot under his touch, and lowers himself down over Dean.

Dean shudders a little and then, with a sigh, bows his head forward.

\----

Sam teaches himself to stop thinking of the world as some sort of wild kingdom, where the only law is 'Kill or be killed.' Four years of college and Jess have tamed him, helped him put aside that part of himself. He studies, gets good grades, and gets the shit kicked out of him one night at a bar. Cherry-red splashes dot the floor and all Sam can do is grin because the itch isn't there anymore, the howling need for vengeance. Jess takes him home and he feels triumphant and alive.

The next morning there are bruises on her arms and when Sam looks in the mirror, he snarls.

\----

Sam had forgotten how natural it feels to have this constant thrum of anticipation and energy coursing through his body. Everything is clearer and brighter now, a razor-sharp edge of awareness that makes him feel more alive than he has in a long time. Dean pants underneath him, skin gleaming and slick, and he finds a strange sort of peace in that.

Sam sinks into him - tooth, nail, and cock - and thinks, this is who I am.


End file.
